As a slightly wild
student I had curtains made for my car so I could sleep more peacefully in it
if I had to. For one reason or another I often did. Now my car is going to be
my home for a night or two once again, until I get to Jura. It’s cozy (no,
really) and saves spending money on, and committing to, a junky B&B. Seats
down, mattress on top, brushed cotton duvets and a silk pillow. Scented candle
and curtains. There!
Beside a lane near
Penrith I found a wild gooseberry bush. Great timing because it’s breakfast
time and I need something green. As I crunch them (because that is exactly how
to describe eating a ripe gooseberry) I wonder why on earth it’s so tricky to
buy fresh and seasonal fruit and veg in roadside cafs. No wonder some lorry drivers look so unhealthy. They need to brush up on there foraging skills.
Driving through Glen Kinglas I began to feel a little uncomfortable
at the thought of not having washed all day. Of course I have my Clarins laid
out on the parcel shelf but I needed water, and lots of it, for a proper soak.
So when I spotted a stream running down from the mountain tops I stopped. Feeling slightly like a character from
Braveheart I found a stretch concealed from the road and, well, bathed. It was a marvel. Cold, naturally, but somehow
not uncomfortably so. And afterwards you don’t just feel clean, there’s something else… softness. My skin and hair felt so soft and altogether refreshed – properly. It’s
no wonder ‘soft water’ is used to describe it.
Wow, my eyes have
been opened somehow. Why doesn’t everyone sleep in curtained cars and wash in
mountain streams when on tour? I’m fresh scented and presentable enough to stop
for an oyster or two at Loch Fyne now. Laugh. I’ll check for ticks later...
With fresh oysters
and a glass of rose inside me I begin the last short leg. No doubt there are
many reasons why Scotland is glorious in August. I hadn’t supposed it would be
for this reason though; glen to glen sunshine. Well,
that and Victor James tablet.
I’ve tuned into
BBC Gaelic and grin at the DJ’s joyfully fitting tribute to the weather.
“I wanna see
sunshine after the rain, I wanna see blue birds flying over the mountains again…”
blares from my speakers and out of all four wide open windows down to the mill
pond loch, up to the purple heathery peaks and around the radiant green green
glens.
Last stop. I’ve
found a perfect spot just over the head from Tayvallich where the rib’ll come
and take me to Jura in the morning. There’s
a little art gallery here. I wonder over to have a look and find a man sitting
on an upturned keg bottling beer. He tells me that he is founding a brewery –
Tayvallich Brewery. He’s not commercial yet but hopes to be soon. He collects spring
water from a burn near by and picks bog myrtle, to use rather than hops.
Uhoh, I’ve been a
bit primitive girl like today haven’t I? Wild gooseberries, 'stream cleaning' (haha, the old way) and oysters. And how good were all three? Better than
anything you can buy, I’d say. Seems to me the world’s a bit topsy turvey and
that everything’s a bit upside down these days.
 |
| View over to Jura from my car bed - boot door wide open. |
I can hear wolves,
far far away over the sound. On Jura. Definatley wolves crying. Are there
wolves on Jura? Uhoh. Chris Packham would be delighted. (Later on in the month I discovered the sound was in fact the mating whine of grey seals).